


Susurrus

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Ficlet, Flirting, M/M, Suggestive Themes, belly dancer!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 18:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13746633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: There's something in the way he moves his hips that keeps Hisoka staring.





	Susurrus

**Author's Note:**

> just unloading some tumblr-exclusive ficlet things that never made it onto ao3. if you want to see more of these sorts of things, check out my ficlet tag at terminallydepraved.tumblr.com/tagged/ficlet

There was something about the way this dancer moved that set Hisoka’s blood aflame, to the point where he worried the drink in his hand might evaporate into the dim, perfumed air of the hall. He took a sip in case it happened, the warmth echoing the heat already at home in his loins. He’d been here many times before, seen scores of dancers take to the floor, but this one...

There was something about this one he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Sir, would you like another drink?” a soft voice asked, breaking him from the show. Hisoka looked up into the eyes of a waitress, her expression muted in the poor lighting. 

“I’d rather the name of that dancer,” Hisoka told her, gesturing at the black-haired beauty currently entrancing the audience, stealing the attention from his fellow performers. 

The waitress didn’t even need to follow the line of his hand. She just sighed knowingly, as if this happened often. “That’s Chrollo,” she told him, holding her serving tray to her chest as she too took in the mesmerizing sway of the dancer’s hips. “He’s a favorite here, so he only performs during peak hours.”

That would explain why Hisoka had never seen him before. His schedule rarely allowed for him to come here on Fridays, but if this were the entertainment he could expect to see, he might have to change that. Hisoka took another drink of his whiskey, eyes narrowing as he traced the lines of the dancer’s body. The v of his hips were absolutely riveting. “Does he do private shows?” Hisoka asked, glancing up at the waitress who seemed just as entranced as him. 

She shook her head. “He’s…picky,” she said, quirking her lip a little on the word. “He won’t agree to them for just anyone. He tends to pick his favorites and only accepts offers from them.” She let out a sigh, shaking her head a bit. “It might be better to just give up, honestly. I’ve seen him turn down millionaires before.”

Well, that just wouldn’t do. Hisoka huffed a bit, holding his glass out to her until she took it from him. “On second thought,” he said, giving her a smile. “I think I will have another drink.”

“Suit yourself,” she chuckled, disappearing off into the darkness of the club. He had a sneaking suspicion that she had no faith in his ability to put the odds in his favor. He’d just have to prove her wrong. 

The song ended within a minute or two, the dancers waving and blowing kisses through their silken masks as they trailed off to rest in between sets. Hisoka lifted himself from the mound of pillows he’d claimed as his own, weaving through the patrons with his goal in sight. Chrollo lingered off near a wall, resting his hands on an empty table as he caught his breath, perhaps. Hisoka paused for a moment to take him in, savoring the sight of the dancer up close, no smoke or haze or distance to obscure the fine details of his figure. 

The silk of his billowy pants curled along the lines of his thighs, highlighting the strength they could command. The belly shirt he wore showed off his subtle curves, beads and beaten gold dangling from the hems to jingle and sing as he worked his body in time to the music in the air. Hisoka couldn’t tear his eyes from the dimples of his lower back, or the curve of his ass as he leaned on the table. He’d never had a dancer before, which seemed like such a shame now that he saw the beauty they boasted in the conditioned lines of their bodies. He should rectify that, he thought, closing the distance between himself and the intoxicating dancer before him. He could think of no one better to fill that gap with than this one.

“You dance beautifully,” he said softly, coming up behind the dancer. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen music come alive until I saw you up there.”

Chrollo turned, peering at him from behind his face mask. The dark, mysterious glimmer of his eyes told Hisoka that he was smiling beneath the silk. “Is that so?” he asked, and Hisoka had to fight back the stab of white hot need when his smooth voice ghosted over him. It was as weightless as the night, though it trailed across his skin like feather down. “Forgive me if I sound rude, but I’ve heard all of that before.”

Hisoka laughed a little, moving forward to rest against the high table with him, invited or no. “I don’t doubt it,” he said, and up close like this, he could see notes of blue in the dancer’s dark, dark eyes. What did he look like beneath the mask? Hisoka had a startling notion that he was gorgeous. “A body like yours inspires poetry in even the most uninspired of men.”

“Is that what you are?” the dancer asked, a narrow brow raised. “An uninspired man?”

This was a dangerous game to be playing, Hisoka realized, as the dancer’s smooth voice rolled over him in a wave. On the stage, he was already desirable, but the damage was tenfold up close. “How could I be when so close to your radiance?” he asked, wanting nothing more than to see how he looked sans the mask. Sans the entire outfit, if he were being honest.

The dancer rolled his pretty eyes, turning to lean his back against the table’s edge. He crossed his arms and looked up at Hisoka, and for a minute, Hisoka could tell he was smiling beneath that carmine mask. “Is that so?” he repeated, blinking slowly, like a cat in the sun, basking in the praise. “And would my radiance be all you desire of me?” he asked, cocking his hip a little in a way that sent the charms on his outfit singing. 

“Well,” Hisoka replied, “my drink is gone, so I suppose I was wondering if I could slake my thirst on beauty incarnate instead.” 

For someone like Chrollo who no doubt heard all manner of lines from fans and admirers alike, to hear him snort out a surprised burst of laughter, Hisoka had to wonder if he’d done something right. “Really?” Chrollo gasped, bringing a hand up to his covered mouth. “Is it working?”

Hisoka pretended to think, but only for a moment. He neared Chrollo’s covered face, posing his lips to his ear. “I’m not sure,” he crooned, and he didn’t imagine the shiver that ran through the dancer’s body. Not when the dangling decorations on his outfit gave him away in a song of pure surrender. “Perhaps I need to take a closer look.”

Chrollo lifted a hand to rest on Hisoka’s chest, letting his fingers linger on his sternum. His breath was quick, his eyes dark with something other than the night. “Be careful not to drown,” he warned softly, the corner’s of his eyes crinkling in the telltale play of a smile. “At least, not before my next song.”

Pulling away a little, Hisoka stared into the beautiful dancer’s eyes, wondering if it were already too late for him. “You perform again tonight?” he asked. He had thought the dancers only performed one set per evening, so as to save the rest of their nights for other distractions. 

Humming, Chrollo hooked his fingers in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him away from the table. “Only private dances now,” he said, and Hisoka felt himself grin. “That is, if you think you can keep afloat. I’d hate to drown an inspired man.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, letting the dancer guide him forward, the sway of his hips too inviting to refuse. “I think I’ll manage somehow.”


End file.
